we damn well deserve more!” Darby didn’t raise her voice, but DJ was left in no doubt that she meant every word.
DJ looked at Jules, hoping to find her as shocked at this ultimatum as DJ. But Jules just looked sad. “Let us know what you decide, Dylan-Jane.”
God.
Jules followed Darby to the door and when it closed behind them, DJ dropped to her chair and stared at the floor.
Yep, it was official. Having heart-to-heart conversations really wasn’t what she did best.
* * *
The following evening, Matt walked across the road to Levi Brogan’s house. Like most of the houses in the gated community, and like Lockwood House itself, it was Georgian-inspired with its portico and columns. But instead of redbrick, the cladding was painted a pale gray and the white-framed windows were free of shutters. Ivy climbed up the side of the three-story building and across the front of the three-car garage, on top of which was what looked to be a guest apartment.
Matt rested his hand on the gate and looked around. He liked this exclusive community, liked the amount of space between the houses, the big trees and the quiet streets. He was used to the bustle of city living in The Hague, but this golfing community held a serenity that appealed. He’d never visited here before.
This was Dylan-Jane’s world, her people.
For years they’d met on neutral territory, places where neither of them had friends or acquaintances. They could focus on each other with no distractions. Their trips to unfamiliar places subconsciously reminded them that their time together wasn’t real life.
But being in Boston, in her town, and living across the road changed that.
He couldn’t get on a plane and distance himself. His obligations to his grandfather and the meeting he hoped to have with Emily were happening side by side with his need for DJ.
He wanted her—of course he did. He didn’t think there would ever be a time when he didn’t want her. But here, in Boston, he’d started wondering about more than the attraction between them. Which house was her childhood home? Had she climbed that magnificent maple down the street? Had she been a tomboy or a girlie girl, naughty or nice?
Matt rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, trying to push away the curiosity. He was asking for trouble if he looked at DJ as anything other than a no-strings, uncomplicated affair.
He didn’t do complications. He avoided risk. For the past eighteen years, he’d forced himself not to think about having a family, reinforcing the belief that marriage and having kids wasn’t for him. He’d been at the mercy of unpredictable parents and then unyielding grandparents and neither set of parental figures gave him anything near what he needed. He didn’t want to perpetuate that dysfunctional cycle...
For eighteen years, he’d managed to stand apart, to not get involved, to be self-sufficient...but being in Boston made him think of family and those childish shattered dreams.
It had to stop. He was not an insecure kid anymore.
Enough of the past...
Matt jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocked on his heels, still not walking through the gate. There could never be anything more between him and DJ, he knew that, but he was also certain that he owed her an apology. By losing his temper, he’d reacted badly. She’d shared a horrible experience with him and he’d seen the pain in her eyes, but he’d pushed her feelings aside to indulge in his life-wasn’t-fair moment. He should’ve listened, tried to understand before reacting.
Yeah, not his proudest moment.
Irritated and ashamed, Matt pushed through the gate and walked up the steps to the ornate wooden door. He knocked and when a female voice answered, “We’re in here,” he stepped into the hall.
Matt followed the sound of the voice to a large sitting room filled with sofas covered in a mishmash of fabrics and colors. It shouldn’t work, but it did. It was luxurious and comfortable and homey and chic all at the same time, and he immediately felt at home.
Glancing around, he saw Jules and Darby sitting on a flame-orange sofa, holding on to wineglasses like they were lifelines, tension radiating off both of them. Shoulders hunched, mouths tight, eyes bright. Matt frowned, looking for DJ. Where was she?
His big boots hitting the hardwood floor had them lifting their heads and he saw the misery in their eyes. Yeah, this wasn’t good.
“What’s happened? Where’s DJ?”
Darby exchanged a long look with Jules and she released the breath she was holding. “Matt. Perfect.”
A shed-load of sarcasm in two words. “Is DJ okay?”
“DJ is always fine, Matt, didn’t you know that?” Darby said, her words bitter. But beneath the sarcasm, Matt heard pain and worry.
“She’s in her apartment, Matt,” Jules finally answered. “Yesterday and today were tough for her. If you were planning to keep fighting with her, please don’t.”
So Jules still felt protective of her friend. Her statement lessened one of the many coils squeezing his heart.
“Are you still mad at her?” Jules demanded, obviously curious.
No, his anger now had a different target—himself.
Matt shrugged. He wasn’t in the habit of discussing his personal life, but these women were DJ’s best friends, the people who knew her best. He kept his explanation short. “I’ve been calling her since last night. Messaging her, emailing. She isn’t responding.”
Darby shook her head, disappointed. “Join the club. God, I could just strangle her right now!”
Okay, so he’d obviously walked into some additional drama. Maybe he should come back later, when they were all a little more even-keeled. He was an expert at reading body language, but he didn’t like dealing with drama anywhere other than in court, where he used it to get the result he wanted.
“What happened?” he asked, forcing a gentle note into his voice.
“I—She—DJ...grrr.”
Matt lifted his eyebrows at Darby’s actual growl. DJ had really managed to annoy the crap out of Darby.
Darby shoved a hand through her hair, looked from Jules to him and her chin wobbled. “Yesterday we gave her an ultimatum. It wasn’t pretty.” Darby threw up her hands and rapidly blinked. Yep, definitely tears. And damn, if she was in tears then DJ was more than likely crying, too.
Such fun. Matt sent a longing look to the door.
“I need to get out of here,” Darby muttered, pulling at the collar on her white polo-neck sweater. Since she made no effort to move, Matt figured she wasn’t going anywhere.
But leaving sounded damn good and Matt wished he was anywhere else. Someplace that didn’t have about-to-cry women, best friends fighting, a crap load of emotion. Nailing a bad guy using facts and words sounded like heaven right now.
“Maybe I should be the one to go.”
